The Princess's Imp
by beauifulliketherain
Summary: In which there is an imprisoned Rumplestiltskin, the thoughtful Lady Belle of Avonlea, and a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart.
1. Chapter 1

_"Kneel, Imp."_

 _Once, Rumplestiltskin might have tried to resist the command. But now, two weeks after he was first summoned to the court of Sir Maurice by the pull of his dagger, he knows that such an act of petty rebellion is useless. He must plot to regain control of the dagger, but until then, his power will not allow him to escape any disobedience unpunished._

 _Even as he drops to his knees, his eyes turned to the stone floor, a twinge of pain shoots through him, a silent warning._

 _"Well, Dark One, have you changed your mind yet?"_

 _Maurice's sharp voice fills the cell. Rumplestiltskin barely holds back a sign and settles for rolling his eyes which the knight will not notice. They have already had this conversation multiple times._

 _"Dead is dead, dearie."_

 _He repeats the words, wishing Maurice would finally believe them. Though the man is blinded by love and grief, he fails to see how he cannot understand such a basic law._

 _"Very well."_

 _He turns away, flicking the dagger in a languid motion. Pain, sharp and burning fills Rumplestiltskin, intensifying a moment later and tearing out the scream he'd been trying to hold back._

 _Silently, he vows his revenge on this man and his kingdom, and any near and dear to him._

* * *

Her father tells her of him the same day he falls so seriously ill. Later, she would wonder which of her emotions toward her father had been stronger; her fear for his health or the betrayal and horror that he had kept this from her her entire life.

He holds the Dark One's dagger.

She listens patiently while he explains how there had been another attack when she was just a baby, and he'd tried any possible way to save the kingdom. Almost all hope had been lost when Rheul Ghorm had shared her plan, and finally the control of the evil demon had fallen into his hands. The war over, he'd been placed in the dungeon.

He'd been there ever since.

Now, the Ogre war was at their doorstep again, and Maurice was too old and too ill to weird the dagger again. She must summon the imp, as much as he wanted to keep his daughter away from a demon such as Rumplestiltskin, there was no other choice if both Belle and the kingdom were to be kept safe.

* * *

Five minutes later, Belle was descending the rough-hewn stone steps into the dungeon, a torch gripped tightly in one hand and the dagger in the other. In the torch lit semi-darkness the name carved on the blade seemed to shift and gleam with a life of its own.

 _Rumplestiltskin_

Their last hope. Their destruction, or their salvation, only time would tell. If they were mistaken, if the dagger had somehow lost its power.. then they would truly understand why he was known as a creature without mercy, but by the Gods, he would step over her lifeless corpse first.

Not that she had any doubt he'd hesitate in doing just that, given half a chance.

* * *

It has been a long time since he last felt the presence of a desperate soul.

Rumplestiltskin knows his prison now, well enough to know that the sound of frantic feet on the stairs is not the guard who just occasionally drops him a meal so he doesn't starve. (It wouldn't kill him, of course, but he isn't immune to the pangs of hunger that gnaw almost constantly at his hollow insides.)

Whoever is coming is desperate, and he would think that they wanted a deal. But he can almost feel the control of the dagger getting closer, in the hands of someone other than Maurice, apparently, because he detects none of the anger and self-righteousness that had rolled off the man in waves.

Only strength and courage. How odd.

He waits patiently, the mask of the snowman in place and a heavy feeling in his heart.

The last time someone had appeared in his dungeon, dagger in hand, things had not ended well for Rumplestiltskin.

 **All right, this is an idea I've been working on for quite a while, so I already have some ideas. Really excited for this one...**

 **If anyone's interested, expect a slightly longer next chapter by Friday (6/5/16).**


	2. Chapter 2

Belle stopped for a moment at the last turn that would lead her to the cell to compose herself.

She would have to be careful with her words, she knew. If she issued a command, it must be specific enough not to allow for loopholes. The Dark One was not known as a trickster for nothing. He could weave webs with his words, trap people with heir own wishes and dreams. Her Papa's last warning still echoed in her mind.

 _Never, ever offer him your name._

She stepped around the corner and in front of the cell.

And instinctively stepped back at the sight of a face pressed to the bars, glaring right at her.

Belle hadn't known what to expect. Her imagination had provided her with several vague images, fur or feathers, fangs or claws, brimstone and flame, perhaps a countenance too beastly to be described in words.

But she certainly hadn't been prepared for this; a creature human in appearance except for his green-gold skin and unnaturally large eyes. His clothes hung in tatters, little more than rags, though they had probably once been fine silk and leather. He could not have been much taller than her, from what she could make out, though power rolled off him in waves. Amber eyes glared at her from the darkness as the creature _hissed_ at her, pressing again the bars and baring rotting yellow teeth.

For all that his pebbled skin shone in the light and the hands wrapped around the bars ended in claws, his appearance was just enough this side of human, and she found it extremely disconcerting.

Her voice threatened to tremble, and she forced it to remain steady. She had learned enough of politics and had spent her time around too many people more powerful than herself to show weakness to an as-yet unknown enemy.

"You are the Dark One?"

Her eyes met his and fixed him with a defiant look. She was the one with power here, and she had too much to lose to forget that.

"Yes." His voice was odd, changing pitch from word to word, dramatic and mocking.

He clenched his teeth, as if trying to bite back the rest of the words "Mistress."

His face twisted in revulsion as he spit out the reminder of her ownership, the word obviously bitter on his tongue.

She felt startled for a moment, the title catching her off-guard.

"Why did you call me that? I didn't ask you, and I doubt you'd want to."

"Your father's orders, dearie." He let out a mad giggle, shrill and loud in the silent dungeon. He leaned even farther, seemingly uncaring of the metal pressed against his skin.

"Gotta _respect_ my master, haven't I?"

She knew he was probably telling the truth, even as her first instinct was to deny it. The fact that he had been locked up in the dark almost as long as she'd been alive was proof enough that her father was not who she'd thought him to be. Still, she wouldn't give him her name, and had no plans of being called _mistress_ by anyone.

She already felt guilty enough.

"You may call me anything you wish," she began, them noticing the gleam in his eyes, "so long as it brings me no harm."

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement, even as a spark of amusement danced in his eyes.

 _Clever, dearie._

All the more fun to play with. And he always could appreciate a good mind, even in someone he planned to rip the heart out of. She could be interesting to have around for a while, though she'd be difficult to outsmart.

"Now, dearie, why don't you tell me what you want?"

Belle glanced down, not replying immediately. She though of a blood-colored sky, the moans of the children she'd seen die. The haunted looks of survivors that reflected the horrors they had seen, a child innocently asking when his father would be back.

"I want my kingdom to be safe," she replied, almost in a whisper. "And I need your help to do it."

* * *

To the girl's credit, her first request seemed a sincere one. Though she'd begin to ask for herself soon enough, for now, she seemed to genuinely want to help her people.

Well, no people, no taxes, and then how would these nobles have their lavish castles and luxurious clothes? Thinking of which, wasn't that dress a _lovely_ shade of gold? What _would_ it look like, soaked through with blood?

He giggled aloud at the thought, then addressed the girl, "So, what do you want me to do?"

She seemed almost relieved at the question, some of the wariness in her posture draining away as she obviously started to make plans.

"Well, first you should come with me. We can discuss the terms of our deal."

"Deal, dearie?"

"Oh, don't you make deals then? I know you're known as a deal-maker."

He nodded, wondering where she was going with this. he was too genuinely interested to make any more grandiose a gesture.

"If I simply commanded you to destroy the ogres, what would the price of the magic be? And who would pay it?"

Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrows shot up, his interest genuinely piqued. It wasn't like a noble, or anyone he dealt with, really, to consider the consequences of their actions. For that, he owed this little princess a measure of respect.

The questions had not been meant as commands, so he answered with a question in return.

"And where would a lady like yourself have learned so much about magic?"

She shrugged, stepping forward to slip a key into the rusted lock. The door creaked as it swung open.

"I read. Anyhow, come with me. You look like you could use a meal." She scratched up her nose slightly, a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "And a bath."

* * *

She hadn't been joking about the bath, Rumplestiltskin realized, watching tendrils of steam rise from the warm water. She'd asked he be hidden as the maids worked, not wanting anyone to run around screaming (he'd grinned slightly at that, making a mental note to try to scare as many people as possible until she remembered to tell him not to). Now, he stepped into the room to see her checking the shelves.

" Soap, towels,... "

"You were serious?! I can do magic, you know."

She turned to face him, running a critical eye over his wiry frame.

"Your clothes are ruined. Do you have any others?"

Irritated at being ignored, he waved a hand so that a pile of his clothes, neatly folded, appeared on the nearby shelf.  
The girl looked impressed, "Where are these from? Can you conjure something from nothing?"

Rumplestiltskin reached the limit of his patience. He wanted to know what this girl _wanted_ from him, he wanted to know it _now_ , and he was tired of playing guessing games.

"They are _from_ the Dark Castle. You know dearie, the place where I used to _live_?"

An odd look passed over her face as she nodded slightly.

"Please join me in my sitting room when you're done. We have a lot to discuss."

She gracefully left the room, leaving him glaring after her, angry and somewhat confused. One of her hands lingered on the hilt of the dagger, the other ghosting over the gold chain clasped at her throat.

* * *

 **Erm..I hope you enjoy? Until next Friday then.**


	3. Chapter 3

The room around them was deorated in blue and silver. Tapestries adorned the walls. A small bookshelf brimmed with a collection of tomes, carefully arranged and alphabetized. Small spindle-legged tables set with tasteful ornaments of wood and crystal and vases of fresh white roses stood on either side of the door. A large window illuminated the room and offered a stunning view of the open sea.

Belle and Rumpelstiltskin sat across from each other on matching armchairs, a table between them. The Dark One was now dressed in a new outfit of a maroon silk shirt, leather vest and britches, and feeling considerably better after a long soak in hot water. His face gave nothing away, though his hands still danced in his lap. A tea set sat on the table, white porcelain with a simple design in blue and gold.

"Spinning wheel, clothes, a few books. Yes, that seems reasonable." Belle said, lifting the steaming teapot. "You're fine with my providing the furnishings?"

"Yes, fine, dearie." For all appearances, Rumpelstiltskin seemed uninterested in the conversation until a thought appeared to strike him. "Oh, and I'll need the pelts of the children I hunt and skin!"

The teacup she'd been about to prepare tumbled to the floor with an unnoticed crack as Belle started at him in now, she'd considered him the (mostly) innocent party in their interactions. Now, she reconsidered. She'd just decided that something like this wouldn't be included in the 'not giving him any commands' rule she'd made for herself when he spoke.

"Just a quip dearie," he said, with one of the flamboyant gestures she was learning were characteristic of him. "Not serious."

She found that she believed him, and allowed herself to smile as shock faded into something like amusement. He had a sense of humor. Who knew?

Finally, her eyes dropped to the cup she'd so hastily dropped, and frowned slightly as she picked it up.

"It's chipped."

Rumpelstiltskin rook the cup from her, running a fingertip along the damaged rim. "I could fix it," he offered half-heartedly.

Belle shrugged. "No need. It's just a cup, I'll throw it away."

"Ah, no, dearie. It can still hold tea, no?"

Belle picked up her tea, taking a sip as she watched him carefully prepare his own. He took his tea dark, but with so much suger that Belle, with her preference for no sugar at all, felt almost faint. Her gaze lingered on the four undamaged cups sitting on the tray, but she decided to let him have his preferences and, for the moment, made no comment on the matter.

* * *

"When I said tower, dearie, I wasn't planning on climbing the steps to reach it." Rumpelstiltskin complained as they climbed yet another staircase. He was beginning to think he should just have stayed in the dungeon. At least there hadn't been any steps going _up._

Belle looked back from a few steps above him. "And miss the look on your face after I've arranged it? No."

Arranged it? The girl probably did his room in pinks and purples. Her own room had been tastefully done, but arranged by a designer, no doubt. He scowled darkly, thinking of a prison-like cell, just to remind him of his place.

Belle glanced over her shoulder. "Come on. I'm moving faster than you are, and I'm wearing a corset."

Really, were princesses (nobles, dukes' daughters, whatever) supposed to be able to move so fast? Weren't they supposed to be dainty and delicate or something?

The last spiral ended and they found themselves on a landing looking at a closed oak door.

 _A keyhole. From one prison into another, it seemed._

"Alright," she said, nervousness in her voice.

The door squng open. His jaw dropped.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin rarely slept, so he had never seen much purpose in paying attention to his chambers at the Dark Castle. Had he been interested in preparing a room for himself, this would probably have been the result.

The tower was a high one, and the castle itself stood on a ridge, so the window in the room offered a view of both land and sea, towns and villages dotted across an expanse of green.

The room itself was almost circular, done inearthy shades of brown, gold and burgundy. A bed and dresser stood to one side, a mahogany desk and chair in another. A space had been left clear for his wheel, a few shelves along one wall ready for his supplies. There was even a small wicker basket of straw, resting inconspicuously on the burgundy carpet, and matching curtains hung at the windows.

"If there's anything else, anything I forgot, you can always ask."

The girl seemed to be seeking his approval, and he was more than happy to comply.

"Its perfect, dearie, " and with wave of his hand, his own things appeared in their rightful places. He moved immediately to the spinning wheel, watching the straw almost reverently as it turned to gold umder his fingertips.

So long. His only solace, and it had been _so long._

 _For this alone, he'd spin for the girl day and night if she so wished it._ The familiar creak of the wheel filled the room, and Rumpelstiltskin did not look up for a long time.

Belle qatched all the tension, tge rage and anger, drain away from his face as if by magic (ironic, in a way) to be replaced by, if not peace, then something softer than anything she'd seen there before. She smiled gently, placing a set of keys on the shelf behind her. The door closing noiselessly behind her as she left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

She woke up feeling blissfully content and unaware, forgetting what had happened for a moment and groaning at the thought of another normal day.

Until the full weight of everything she had done came crashing back to her. _Dagger. Summoning. Rumpelstiltskin._ Right.

The Dark One was sleeping in her castle. Or whatever Dark Ones did at night. As he'd been doing, apparently, for twenty years.

She had been too pumped up on adrenaline, too furious, too busy getting things done, to _think_.

Now, she didn't have that luxury.

She wasn't fool enough to think her decision wouldn't have any consequences. This was the Dark One shed enslaved, however unwillingly. Were he to get hold of the dagger, she had no illusions about the kind of destruction he would cause.

 _It's time_ , she realized, _to make a deal_.

Belle turned over and buried her face in her pillow. She needed a few moments of peace before she had to start her day.

* * *

'I'm going to ask a question, Rumplestiltskin, and I want an honest answer.'

She was being perfectly serious for once, her sapphire eyes fixed intently on his face. Her words were enough of a command to be recognized by the dagger, and even with his scarce experience with her, he knew it must be no small matter. He seethed inside, wishing he knew what to expect.

'As you wish, my lady,' he replied, with a small, seated bow 'And what would this important query be?"

"If your dagger fell into your hands right now, what would be the fate of Avonlea?"

He almost laughed at that, so easy was the answer for him. In fact, it would be a pleasure to fulfill this particular demand.

"I would wipe your proud little town off the face of the earth." he stated simply and with relish. "I'd make you and your father watch as I left no living soul in his land, and you could know it was your fault. I'd feel his blood on my hands, and trust me when I say, dearie, he'd beg me for death before I would grant him that mercy."

She shivered slightly, involuntarily. He had leaned forward as he spoke, and the sun from the window reflected the gleam in his eyes. He grinned at her fear, making sure to display his rotting teeth. "And I wold enjoy _every,_ single, _bloody_ moment of it."

She looked straight back, not breaking eye contact. "And me?"

"Oh, I don't know, I do need a maid. I could take you with me, let you do something useful for a change."

"I thought so. That is why I want to make an offer."

"Oh?"

It was her turn to lean forward, stressing her terms.

"You will not touch, use magic against, or in any other way or form harm any of my people. You will leave them in peace and prosperity, whatever the circumstances. You will help me stabilize the kingdom, stop the Ogre attacks, help me rule."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Belle beat him to it.

"That's not an-"

"And in return, I will give you back _this_ ,'' drawing the kris out of a sheath "one year from now."

* * *

Rumplestiltskin did not speak for nearly a minute.

He simply stared at her. And then he burst out laughing.

"What?" She glared, hating whenever anyone laughed at her. It was something men around her did often. The maniacal giggles disappeared almost as soon as they had started, and he focused again.

"Dearie, you were _serious_?"

"Of course." she replied, looking concerned "It seems reasonable. Hopefully I won't need your help by then, and we can both- _what_?"

He was looking at her as if she was mad. When he spoke, he did it carefully, slowly, as if explaining to a child. "No-one gives up power they've had a taste of, mistress. Especially power like this, when you can have anything you want. Silks. Jewels. Kingdoms."

Belle frowned. ''But you lose your free will.''

''That is how it works.''

''I don'want to control you. I hardly need silks or jewels or kingdoms.''

''You still won't fulfill your promise.''

Trust. This was about trust.

''You think I don't understand the situation. Don't know what you're capable of, what is in my power right now, don't you?"

 _You have no idea the forces you are dealing with._

"Yes."

"Well, I do. You spin straw into gold Rumplestiltskin. Legends of your power spread across the lands. Right now, I could order you to burn down the world, and I could stand in the ashes. I could have the world at my feet, and no-one could dispute it. I am not a child, I understand what I have. and I don't want it. I want safety, security, and your word. Do you accept my terms?"

 _We will see when the time comes, princess. Both sides must be fulfilled, or my word is void._

His voice shook, just a little.

"You have a deal."

* * *

"You did _what_?"

"Papa, calm down, this isn't good for your health-"

"I will not have that monster roaming around the castle! It belongs in a cage-"

"Papa-"

"What if it tries to harm you?"

She reached the end of her patience "Like you did to him?"

"Belle, he's a beast! He needs to be kept leashed. The world must be protected from his evil."

 _Perhaps, but what right did you have to decide that?_

And she hadn't even told him of the deal yet.

"I'll come later, papa, after you have calmed down."

He wouldn't even admit his mistake. Once, she had loved her father so much, never thought he could hurt anyone needlessly. She had always, _always_ trusted him.

 _How had everything changed so fast?_


	5. Chapter 5

When Belle learned that she was to control the Dark One' s dagger, she'd known her life had changed forever. What she did not expect however, was that after the first few days of death threats, conflicting emotions and all-in-all general chaos, things would settle into a fairly consistent routine, even if it required begrudging compromises on both sides.

The meals especially required lengthy negotiations, Belle insisting the time be spent together while Rumplestiltskin argued that, technically, he didn't need human food and had no desire for the frilly food Belle usually preferred. In the end, he consented to breakfast with her each day, and the promise of lemon pastries daily even secured her evening tea.

The amount of death threats had decreased drastically, and there was more of a teasing note to his voice now. There were times she could actually coax him into a proper conversation. One summer afternoon found them in the library, discussing tactics, the conversation occasionally trailing into heated argument when neither would concede a point. Altogether, though, they'd made surprising progress with their combined knowledge, his of centuries of battles and hers of details of the surrounding area, and the map before them was covered with marks detailing potential routes and positions. The rest would be decided with the council present.

Work finished for the day, they found themselves in idle conversation as Belle skimmed half-heartedly through a book, Rumplestiltskin trailing a finger along one of the inked lines on the page.

They had both been silent for a while, each busy with their own thoughts, when he spoke.

"You're odd."

"Yes, and you're sparkly. Care to state anything else obvious?"

His eyes took a pensive look for a moment, and Belle feared she'd offended him somehow, though she didn't usually find him sensitive about appearance. But he smiled in the next instant, small but genuine.

"Fair enough, princess. "

* * *

"Its _beautiful_."

He looked up to see her standing at the doorway. She was looking not at the gold thread in his hand, but the wheel as it spun under his fingertips, and this lack of greed in her and her appreciation for skill and something so small and soothing surprised him somewhat.

"Princess."

It still unsettled her more than she could say, the fact that he couldn't call her by name. It was always 'mistress' in his darker moods and 'princess' in his more charitable ones, and 'dearie when he was amused or didn't want her to read his emotions.

"Can I watch you spin?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, then knowing that she could take away this one peace he has, lowered them again, hating himself for the fact that what she had given him means so much. It didn't stem the bitterness in his words, though.

"I can hardly stop you, mistress."

Her eyes meet his in a flash of blue fire.

"It's your choice, Rumpelstiltskin. I can see that you don't want to be distributed. I'll be in my room then."

She turned away to hide the hurt in her eyes. She knew he blamed her for everything that has been done to him, and in a way he was right. But it didn't make anything easier for her.

"You can stay..if you want."

She turned around then, and he doubted he would have regretted anything so long as it made her eyes twinkle like that as she smiled. It's not that he enjoys her company. He still didn't trust her, after all. But that didn't change the fact that she was the only one who had shown him consideration in a long time.

She walked over to the wheel, and he waited for her to ask him to conjure up a chair. Instead, she dropped down to the burgundy carpet beside his bench, her head resting against his leg.

He automatically stiffened at the contact, and the trust it implied. It's true that the dagger keeps him from harming her in any way, but she was intelligent enough to know that loopholes are his specialty. As such, he didn't understand this naive trust she displayed at times when she was so astute otherwise. She has never struck him as over-confident.

Slowly, he fell back into the slow, steady rhythm of the wheel, forgetting a million old memories.. and the confusion this girl at his side created in his heart.

Belle idly began to wind the thread from the wheel around her finger, marveling at the fact that it had been straw moments ago. As always, her curiosity got better of her.

"Why do you spin so much? You've already spun straw into more gold than you could ever spend."

"To forget," he replied, automatically telling the truth although she had not termed her words as a command. Absently, the small part of him wondered just what spell the blue-eyed princess was weaving.

"Forget what?"

 _You can't have this secret. Not this one._

And he was the imp once more, remembering with bitter clarity who she was. It didn't matter if her prison was nicer than the others. It was still imprisonment. He didn't trust her promise, and she kept him from his son.

"I guess it worked."

* * *

Another time, she appeared at the door with a large tray bearing a tea set and some covered plates and inquired if he is busy.

Rumplestiltskin looked up to see that he had lost track of time and the sun is almost below the horizon.

"You missed lunch. "Belle said, setting the tray on a table." I thought you might like some tea. "

" I don't actually need to eat much."He said. It's confusing for him, having someone fret if he doesn't eat or rest, made worse by the fact that he didn't know why she cared. It's been a long time since it mattered. "I'll live."

It took more than that to deter Belle. She didn't argue, but prepared a cup of tea and a plate of his favourite pastries and snacks, (most of them sweet) and carried them over, placing them nearby. Gently, she placed hand on his, stilling the wheel beneath, and coaxed him away from his seat. He picked up the cup, turning it in his hand, and frowned.

''This isn't mine.''

He placed it back and nibbled at the meal, but didn't take tea until she let him conjure the cup she had chipped.

* * *

 **As you might've noticed, I'm much more inclined towards short stories than long ones. Still, I am trying to add as much detail as I can.** **Thanks for all the support, everyone. Every comment literally makes everyone in my near vicinity cover their ears.**


	6. Chapter 6

"But, my lady, this is foolishness! You are taking the imp's advice. He will send our troops to die!"

"I have reviewed his proposals, Sir. He has planned well, and the weapons he provides are effective against Ogres. You may have noticed these tactics have saved many more lives as compared to the methods used before. "

" But, Lady Belle.."

It wasn't often that Belle lost her patience. Being a woman in a man's world had taught her, early on, that taking offense would accomplish nothing except proving to them her immaturity. But she was worried for her father. She hated the fact that these self-righteous councilmen either ignored Rumplestiltskin completely or were convinced that he'd murder them in their sleep (and wasn't that a tempting idea at the moment). Not to mention the war that this stupid meeting was actually _about,_ which only she and Rumplestiltskin seemed interested in _._

 _"Sir_ Gaston _, if y_ ou have any objections to these ideas, other than the fact that they were proposed by Rumplestiltskin, I will consider your opinions. Otherwise, I have a war to fight. If you will excuse me. "

She was just rising as one of the men spoke. She recognized the Head Cleric, present only because of the harm his enmity would cause, and felt a chill despite herself. She half-wished Rumplestiltskin was present, but this was her battle to fight, and she knew Rumplestiltskin hated company.

" This council is not your place, Lady Belle. Your father chose you as regent, and we are bound to respect that decision. But a woman cannot run a country. "

" And it is not you place to disobey my decision, my lord. "

She left the room, leaving the council muttering behind her.

* * *

Belle had always loved to rise before the dawn

There was a strange peace in knowing that the whole world was asleep. She watched the first rays of the sun touch the horizon as the sky glowed a million shades of soft pinks and purples and oranges, as if decorated to welcome the arrival of a new day. Heaven knew she needed that peace now.

There were mornings when it seemed like this was the only time that was her own, the only part of the day that belonged to a girl named Belle instead of the princess whose role she must fulfill, the daughter who worried for her father, the leader her people looked up to, and so many other parts that were hers to play by birth.

lt was one such morning when she was seated in the small rose garden, the last wisps of mist not yet chased away by the new-risen sun, dew still sparkling on the blooms around her like tiny diamonds, when Rumpelstiltskin found her, quiet and meditative.

She looked at the kris in he lap. She had become used to carrying it around, but it felt especially heavy now.

" _Rumplestiltskin_." she breathed, a soft and sad whisper for the unfairness of it all.

She didn't expect him to appear, right next to her. His hair was messier than usual, his shirt open at the collar.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to wake you."

He shrugged, "No matter. You sound worried, princess."

She gestured at the seat beside her. He sat down after only a moment's hesitation.

" I cannot believe these are the people Papa chose to help him run the country. It's a miracle it hasn't fallen apart already."

Rumplestiltskin sighed slightly. Apparently the woman who could deal with the Dark One with calm and composure was bothered by a bunch of fools. Well, most of them were fools. Some could be a genuine threat.

"I don't think it was his choice at all. You should be wary of the Cleric, especially."

"I know," she sighed, miserably. "But unfortunately, his order have a large following among the people."

"Well, there was something about helping to rule in our contract. And I don't break deals."

She placed her head on his shoulder, allowing herself a rare moment of weakness. And peace. What kind of a world was it where the Dark One was her only confidant?

"I know, Rumplestiltskin. I know."

* * *

"What _are_ you doing?"

Rumplestiltskin entered the library to see Belle on top of a ladder, reaching up to the highest shelf of a bookshelf that reached the ceiling. Even then, she was too short to reach, straining upward.

Wearing heels, of all things.

She turned to smile as he entered, and his heart almost skipped a beat as the ladder seemed to teeter precariously.

"This book, I-"

The rest was lost in a scream as the ladder tipped and Belle lost her balance, bracing herself for a fall against the stone floor.

And then she was in his arms, and he had the most bewildered expression on his face, as if he had expected his movement no more than she.

" _Thank you_." she managed after a moment, through shock and relief. And if she was a little speechless, it certainly wasn't because of the way his odd skin looked up close, catching the light from the library windows.

"No matter, dearie" he said dropping and stepping away from her, awkward and unsure.

"Belle." she replied, softly, book forgotten "Please call me Belle."

* * *

"Well, what happened next?" Belle's excited voice broke the companionable silence, and Rumplestiltskin simply grinned smugly at her curiosity and impatience.

"You can't leave me in the middle of a story like that.'

Rumplestiltskin smirked up at the ceiling "Then they accepted my deal, realized too late that magic costs more than it's worth, and lived miserably ever after. Isn't that how all stories end?"

"No." Belle complained, "You're oversimplifying things."

But she didn't ask after the details either, because knowing the kind of greedy foolish people Rumplestiltskin dealt with, that probably _was_ what happened.

The two were in the middle of one of Rumpelstiltskin's stories, the ones he consented to tell Belle every now and again. Sometimes it was the story of a deal, like now. Sometimes a bit of history he may have had a hand in creating, since Belle had an interest in the subject and, like him, enjoyed learning of how individual decisions affected the world. It had taken quite some time to convince him.

 _''You've traveled the world." Belle had said wistfully, leafing through one of the books on the tower shelf. "Something I've always wanted to do. And you don't share anything about it.'_

 _"My dealings are not fairy tales, dearie," he'd replied, (and she hadn't been able to identify the emotion in his voice) "Some of what I have to say might give you nightmares.'' And when had it changed from him trying to frighten the girl to death to him trying to protect her?"_

 _She wanted to be offended, because she didn't need protection. But from him the gesture was so novel, and, she could tell, sweet instead of condescending, that she didn't comment._

Still, nothing could stop her for long, and a few days of cajoling, bribery (all's fair in love and war, and she wasn't above manipulating a sweet tooth) and constant pestering later (enough time to give him an excuse, that she disturbed his spinning, to agree) they found themselves in his tower, Belle at the window-seat and Rumplestiltskin sprawled in an armchair, as he told her a somewhat edited version of a deal he had one made in Agrabah.

They met in her rooms, sometimes, or the gardens, but mostly it was his tower. It had become, she later realized, her safe haven as much as his, even though she never entered there without his permission.

As he told the story, he couldn't forget the fact that she needn't have waited for his consent. One word, and he would spill his life history to her, not only these inconspicuous little deals, which, despite making good tales, were hardly top secret, but the secrets that could destroy him.

But she had offered him a choice, and if she got what she wanted, it had been a fair game.

So he wondered, until he shrugged it away. The Ogres were far from defeated, and he had plenty of time to figure her out yet.

For now, he could enjoy the fact that she hung on to his every word about the world she so desperately wanted to see. He would be lying if he said he didn't want to make it happen for her.

So he wove tales, and Belle listened, until it was time for her to govern a state of people at war and deal with the politics of a court of flatterers and fools.

It was a typical Tuesday afternoon.

* * *

"She is spending too much time with the Dark One. Something must be done."

The group of councilmen gathered in Sir Maurice's chambers nodded sagely at their leader's words, and thee were several voices of assent.

"Your daughter is in great danger."

"Perhaps she needs the support of a husband." The voice belonged to Sir Gaston.

Maurie nodded, determined to act.

"I will make the necessary arrangements."


	7. Chapter 7

""Is that...the last of them?"

Even in the council chamber, filled almost to overflowing, her words could be heard clearly in the silence after the messenger had spoken. All eyes turned to her, then back to the young man as he reaffirmed that no further sighting of the Ogres had occurred after the last group were defeated in the mountain passes a few days ago.

Belle closed her eyes, nodded, and heard herself mention something about a reward for the messenger who had brought the news as well as the public announcement regarding the end of the war.

She walked out of the hall, almost in a daze, on her way to Rumplestiltskin's tower without any conscious decision. She felt more than saw him fall into step beside her somewhere along an abandoned corridor, no doubt sensing the tumult of her emotions through the connection betwixt them.

"What happened?"

And he already knew, of course he did, he had orchestrated the whole thing, but he recognized her need to say it out loud, to make it concrete. To make it _real_.

She threw her arms around him, pulling him tightly into a hug before she knew what she was doing. A selfish indulgence on her part, she knew, but in that moment, she was overcome by emotion and needed contact, and hoped he didn't mind.

Rumplestiltskin suddenly had an armful of Belle, all vanilla and rose perfume and chestnut curls and trusting sapphire eyes, and _how_ had he ended up here again?

"It's over." she whispered into his shoulder, in a laugh choked by tears."It's all finally over".

* * *

As it turned out, it wasn't.

Even though Belle had anticipated some amount of damage, the trail of destruction the Ogres had left behind them was shocking in its severity and extent. Hardly any crops had been spared at all, most houses had been torn down.

To fix it, she needed to ask Rumplestiltskin for help.

She'd rather have preferred any other way.

But the kingdom needed gold, and so here she was, having just asked him if she could have some of his thread.

"Not all of it." She hurried to explain . "Just what is needed, no more, I swear."

When he looked at her, she could swear she saw amusement in his eyes.

"I have no doubt as to your intentions, Belle." He'd replied. He waved a hand at the gold littering the floor and overflowing from the basket he kept beside the wheel. Most of it was in tangled strands, except where Belle had wound it into spools whenever she had watched him spin. "There's all you need and more at the Castle."

He'd never cared for the gold, piles of it filling his abandoned halls to the ceiling, beyond the occasional deal it could help with."I can transport it here."

* * *

"Well, this is just great! Damn it all to hell , Rumplestiltskin, I do _not_ need a ball when the Ogres have hardly been gone a month!"

Belle was as angry as Rumplestiltskin had ever seen her. This wasn't her usual temper of sharp looks and sullen defiance but something that had caused a string of language Rumplestiltskin frankly hadn't considered his mistress capable of to tumble from her rose-petal lips. Were she allowed it, he had no doubt she could've sworn like a fishwife. As it was, her station demanded men be respectful in her presence, so he heard nothing particularly colorful, but was still impressed by the venom behind the words.

Personally, he was finding this streak in her charmingly amusing.

He pulled lightly at the strand of gold under his fingertip as she stormed around the room.

"Up till now, its always been a small celebration. I just don't understand what Papa is thinking, to have a huge ball like this. Can't he arrange it some other time?"

"A ball held in honor of your birthday has to be on the day you were born, dearie." Rumplestiltskin commented unhelpfully.

"I know that," she almost screamed, then realizing it, calmed somewhat, dropping into the chair by the wheel. "And you know that's not what I can't afford any kind of frivolity right now. There's so much that still needs to be done..."

He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the pile of gold gathered at their feet.

"Still, to waste so much.."

"Perhaps you need my help. A forgetting potion?" he asked, not looking up from his wheel.

This made her smile, if somewhat wanly.

"Ah, ah, I just might have fallen for that, but all magic does come at a price."

He grinned, genuinely pleased.

"Oh, so you're learning!"

He dropped the smile a moment later. "Dearie, why is this so important to you?"

Belle bit her lip thoughtfully, barely noticing his gaze flick to her mouth before meeting her eyes again.

"I just don't see the need to prance around in a pretty dress as someone looks down it, while people out there are dying, Rumple. I need to focus on what I can do for them. But I can't deny my father anything, not now," Blue eyes met his, willing him to understand. "Not when I don't know how long I have left with him."

"I see."

And something in his voice told her he did.

"So, how about you compromise. You hold a ball, and you make the occasion a public feast in the nearby villages. Oh, and wear a modest neckline."

He counted off on his fingers. "There, everything solved."

"And what about my need for intelligent company, Rumplestiltskin?"

"If this is an invitation, dearie, I'm afraid I must refuse."

There was a little hurt in her eyes. He forced himself to ignore it completely.

"Why?"she asked.

"So eager to show off you pet dearie? " he replied, flourishing and gesturing wildly. She felt an ache for the times when he quieted and stilled, when she could get through to him. When he was like this though, fully the imp and showman, it was as through all the centuries he had lived stood between them, an insurmountable chasm she could never cross.

"I only wanted a dance", she replied, simply, not expecting him to believe her. But it was something she had learned; the truth had a power that even he couldn't refuse.

''I'm sure your ball will have all manner of princes and knights."

"Did I not emphasize enough on _interesting_ , Rumplestiltskin?" Belle asked, exasperated.

"Surely at least one of them will have more brains than brawn?" He sounded like he didn't know who he was trying to convince, him or her.

"What of I wanted to dance with you?"

"Alright, so you can dance with me. Just not at the ball."

Belle sighed, but recognized a compromise and an opportunity when she saw one.

"Perfect," she nodded, standing up." You owe me a dance then, Rumplestiltskin."

And she turned and left the room, leaving him gaping behind her.

It was the first of many times he would wonder just what he had gotten himself into.


	8. Chapter 8

Rumplestiltskin paced outside Belle's room as she dressed.

She'd asked that he be there, since he wouldn't mind pointing out if she looked absolutely his part, he thought this highly improbable, if not impossible.

However, there he was, and there he waited as Belle's maids dressed her up. He had his own reasons as well-it was, after all, Belle's birthday, and he had a present for her.

He was facing away from the door, and felt her presence before he saw her.

"You're still not going to come with me?"

He did not turn around immediately.

''No.''

"Well, the least you can do is tell me how I look. After the time I had to spend getting ready, _someone_ I like should see it."

He turned around, and stared. Gold. She'd chosen to dress in gold.

In ordinary dress, hair in constant disarray, Belle had been lovely. Now, she looked like an angel from the heavens in golden silk.

The dress was simple at first sight, with a design in gems along the neckline. You had to look a little closer to notice the way the cut of the bodice accentuated her figure, the skirt falling in layers of silk. She wore elbow length white gloves, and her mother's pearl necklace. Most of her hair was held back but a few curls artfully framed her face.

A little darkness around her eyes to emphasize their blueness, a touch of pink on her lips and cheeks completed the stunning ensemble. The overall effect was regally elegant.

 _She looked...a_ _Queen_.

But he wasn't sure if he didn't prefer his Belle, half-warrior and half-bookworm, her expression fierce and thoughtful and kind in turn. This Belle was a fae creature, unlike any other lady he'd met still, but not the girl he'd come to..admire.

''So?''

Her gentle voice broke the spell, and he noticed the touch of mischief that sparkled in her eyes.

Belle considered that this ball might not have been a total waste after all. The thought surprised her, because she couldn't remember ever wanting to impress with her looks before.

He'd forgotten how to praise, he thought, forgotten to smile without ulterior motive, just because something pleased him. He was used to dealing with too many who used their beauty as precisely as any weapon, not bright eyed little princesses who wanted his honest opinions.

"Mm...not bad."he managed, "But something's missing."

Belle tilted her head in that curious way of hers as he held up the small box.

"If you'll have it."

Even Belle, not usually caring for finery, gasped at the intricate web of gold fibers woven into the most exquisitely designed necklace she'd ever seen. It managed to be simple and lovely all at once, much like her own pearl pendant, with a single jewel in a dazzling shade of cerulean.

"You made this? Rumple, it's beautiful!"

 _So are you._

It was on the tip of his tongue, an honest compliment if ever he gave one, but thankfully the foolish notion was gone as soon as it appeared.

Belle looked like she wanted to hug him again, but before he could decide whether to be hopeful or afraid, she remembered her dress and make-up that had taken hours to complete.

"Put it on?"she asked instead.

Gently, he lifted her hair to secure the necklace in place, the silky strands she's decided, for some reason, to wear half loose down her back tumbling into place.

A dazzling smile was the reward for his effort, as she teased gently.

"It's not cursed or anything, right?"

"It has a protection spell on it," he told her. "No one may harm you while you wear it."

He wasn't about to tell her, even in this strange trance her proximity seemed to cause, that the gold had been spun for this very purpose, the spell embedded into it as he thought about her as he spun.

''Have a good evening princess,'' he said, in a bow only half-mocking, and disappeared without a trace of smoke, just before Sir Gaston turned the corner, looking rather too pleased with himself.

''Good evening, Lady Belle. Permit me to escort you to the ball?''

 _Looks like Papa is matchmaking again._

''Of course, Sir Gaston.'' Belle muttered, slipping almost effortlessly into the court manners she'd been taught as he linked his arm though hers.

 _As I seem to be fresh out of romantic interests._

It was going to be a long evening.

* * *

It was easy to see that her Papa had had too much wine.

It was the first ball Avonlea had seen in years, and the ballroom was filled to overflowing with ladies in fine gowns and gentlemen in formal garb. She had of course, followed Rumplestiltskin's suggestion, and the thought that joy was being brought to every home in Avonlea warmed her heart. She stayed by her father's side as he received congratulations and gifts, and she offers to dance. The cut of her bodice, incidentally, showcased her shoulders and collarbone, with barely any decolletage at all.

It was hard not to leave for fresh air from time to time, but she had to keep an eye on the proceedings. She was glad for it, when Sir Maurice stood to speak.

He rose slowly. She could see it was taking a toll on him, being there, but it was not as bad as it had been. He spoke with little weakness in his voice.

''Today we celebrate our freedom from the threat of the Ogres and the birth of my daughter, the lovely Lady Belle.''

Applause filled the room, and Maurice held up a hand for silence.

'On this joyous occasion, I would also like to announce her betrothal, to a knight who has proven himself loyal and capable in hard times- Sir Gaston.''

She wasn't sure if he said anything else or not. Shocked as she was, her first thought was that no-one could possibly call Sir Gaston capable. The second was that she wasn't going to marry the knight who currently sat with the blonde triplets, but hastily stood to make a speech about Belle's beauty and his own joy, obviously memorized.

Someone nudged her gently. She was expected to speak as well.

She stood, nervously but with her decision already made.

''There will be no wedding.''

The ballroom fell silent in a heartbeat. The last of the conversation died down as every pair of eyes in the room fixed her with identical expressions. Shock, disbelief. Disgust. No daughter, once her father has announced her husband, may flout his decision in public. It was unheard of, disgraceful, humiliating.

Her father stared at her in complete shock. No doubt he had believed that, whatever her opinion, she wouldn't dispute his decision in public.

It would have been true, up until a few months ago.

''Enjoy your evening.''

And with that she somehow managed the to exit with composure, though not fast enough not to notice the whispers breaking out behind her.

* * *

Up in his tower, Rumplestiltskin spun.

He usually did this to forget. Now was no different, except that it was blue eyes that haunted him for tonight instead of the brown ones ever-present in his every thought.

 _I will do nothing else. I will_ love _nothing else._

It was a promise he had made long ago, and he would die before he broke it.

Faint sounds of music drifted up from the ballroom below, a few notes reaching the isolated room in a long-lost melody. It seemed that the entire kingdom had turned out to celebrate his little beauty, and for that he was glad, because no one deserved it more than she.

The temptation to spy on her presented itself. A simple glamour, an invisibility spell, even a scrying mirror would do. She would never know, having only forbidden magic harmful in any way and he did not wish her ill at the moment.

Still, despite her initial misgivings, he was sure she was enjoying herself. For some reason, he had no wish to see her dancing with a handsome prince, laughing with someone the way she usually reserved for him.

A _m I jealous? A little possessive of my princess, even though she isn't mine to begin with?_

Oddly, he heard the first part in Belle's lilting accent and teasing tone, the second in his own self-deprecating one.

He closed his eyes, his hands continuing the familiar motion without conscious direction. It wasn't a question of what he wanted. She already had too much- his life, his power, his magic. He couldn't afford to offer his heart as well. Even if he did admire her (he refused to call it love) she could never love him back.

She probably didn't want the attentions of an old monster anyway-

A loud thud interrupted his thoughts, followed by another when he didn't immediately respond. Someone was knocking at his door, and only one person ever came to his tower willingly.

''Come in , dearie,'' he called out, in something very like defeat, as the thought of her presence caused his heart to flutter . Mentally, he listed all the reasons he should stay away from her, and counted to ten for good measure.

She pushed the door halfway open and slipped inside, locking it behind her. When she faced him, all other thoughts scattered as he realized her eyes were red from crying.

He had never seen her cry before.

He was at her side in an instant, and leading her to a chair. Later, he would convince himself it was the dagger projecting her emotions. For now, he took a seat opposite her and waited for her to speak.

The wind outside was the only sound for a moment, and Rumplestiltskin considered the tableau they made, she in her gold gown rumpled from running, tear tracks down her cheeks, he in dark leather with a concerned expression he had almost forgotten how to wear. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper.

''He wanted me to marry Gaston.''

Rumplestiltskin considered this for a moment. The 'he' no doubt referred to Sir Maurice. And he wanted to wed his daughter to some oaf of a knight, no doubt for some alliance or wealth he'd been promised. Wait, _wanted_ -

''And..''

''I refused. He didn't even ask my opinion- he didn't even tell me before, just announced it in front of half the kingdom at the ball. And when I was expected to say my part about how damn happy and grateful I was for such a match ..''

Here, she buried her head into her hands and groaned, ''I refused, and now he's been embarrassed in front of the whole kingdom and probably making a speech right now about how it's only nerves..''

She looked up again. ''My father isn't going to rest until he has his way. And I have no idea what to do.''

''You have the most powerful sorcerer in the world-''

''For five more months. What happens after that? No doubt Papa is regretting letting me have the dagger. But I don't think I could stay here anymore. I never chose to go because Papa needed me, but if I stay..I don't think I could accept marrying a stranger as my fate anymore, after all this.''

''All this?''

''Meeting you. Fighting a war.''

 _Falling_ _in_ _love_.

''You don't have to decide right now, Belle''

His hand had somehow found it's way to covering hers, and the moonlight made her hair gleam and gilded her skin ivory, and oh, he was in so much trouble.

Suddenly she stood up, taking him with her by his hand. ''You're right. Not now. Come on, we need some music.''

Too startled to keep up, he simply conjured some instruments. A sweet tune filled the room, drowning out the music from the hall below.

She pulled him to the center of the room, spinning him once, experimentally. She had never managed to be very graceful, what with her natural clumsiness, but his poise balanced it, and they ended up doing quite the graceful waltz. The moonlight was the only illumination, soft music drifting around the room, and she wouldn't have broken the moment for the world.

''You know, maybe I'll take you up on your offer and go with you.'' Belle sighed.

''An, no dearie, you could never be a good maid. And who will rule the lands you've dealt with the Dark One to save?''

''I may be the only direct heir by blood, but I have cousins. I could invite them here, see if they can manage well.''

''It could work. Where would you go?''

''Well, I've always wanted to travel the world. But first, I think I would like to see your home.''

He smiled at that. Neither spoke until the dance was over,

After she was gone, Rumplestiltskin silently put away the memory, like a pressed flower. Just because she had lost her mind and danced with him once, didn't mean it would ever happen again.

 **With apologies for the delay. I had to deal with a small emergency involving a family gathering, a birthday gift, and an invasion of toddlers. And this chapter just wouldn't get written.**


End file.
